Dinner for Two
by Snotwing
Summary: Sequel to He's Serious? and tag for episode Boxed In.Team bonding fic.Ziva invites Tony to dinner,just to be nice,but Tony has ulterior motives.Gibbs knows something Ziva doesn't and Abby gives Tony a pep talk-sort of. Now Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Okay, here's the sequel you guys wanted. I guess it qualifies as a tag to Boxed In. For those of you who haven't read 'He's serious?!?' might want to read it first. This fic can probably stand on it's own, but will definitely make more sense if you've read the other. So, first chapter, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own and don't profit.

** * ** * ** * **

"So, Tony, you talk to Ziva yet?" Abby chirped energetically.

He sighed tiredly. How could she be so damn _chipper_ all the time? Tony loved Abby (like a sister) but right now he really, _really_ hated those caf-pows! she guzzled.

Belatedly, he realized that she'd just asked him a question. He responded, again belatedly, by continuing to stare blankly. _Does that qualify as a response?_ He asked himself. _It does if I'm doing it consciously_, He decided, and continued to blankly stare.

Abby harrumphed her displeasure.

"I'll take that as a 'no'. Tony, honestly, you were with her all day!"

"Trapped in a shipping container! I was kinda distracted with the whole _trying to get us out alive_ thing!"

Abby just glared at him balefully, obviously not satisfied with his excuse.

"Besides – she's invited everyone but me over for dinner. I don't really think I'm the one that should connect with her. Why do _I_ have to talk to her? Isn't it someone else's turn? I did it with McGee! Three times!"

"Okay, Tony. First off, that just sounds wrong" Abby made a face to emphasize her point "Secondly this Ziva wouldn't be so clueless if you weren't so good at acting the idiot. Thirdly Boss-man told you to."

"Abby, comic relief, not idiot. And Ziva would be clueless no matter what, she's Mossad… she doesn't believe in developing _relationships_ with co-workers. "

"Wow, Tony. You must be really tired. You're being completely serious _and_ making sense" Abby sounded concerned. She'd probably looked concerned, too, but he couldn't tell. The world had gone all fuzzy and blurred around the edges.

And, well, that was understandable – he'd gotten, what, less than four hours of sleep the night before; been locked in a dark, musty box all day (and didn't _that_ bring up unpleasant memories) with a slightly cranky super-spy assassin chick that doesn't like him all that much; been shot at and _shot_; and he was doped up on some kind of painkiller that Ducky had forced down his throat.

And now Abby wanted him to take up Ziva's dinner offer and _talk_ with her. No, not just talk. And not just Abby. Gibbs had practically ordered him to have The Talk with Ziva. You know, the whole 'we are a family and you need to stop acting like a killer and let us love you' talk. Meh.

He couldn't do it. This morning, he thought he could. He and Ziva were working together, following some leads, and getting along great. Then he realized, what with being the only person from work that she _hadn't_ invited to her house, that she really didn't like him. She had invited _Gibbs_ for pete's sake! And Ducky, and Palmer, and – and everybody else.

"Hey – Tony!" Abby's shout interrupted his internal sit rep. He looked up, fighting back a considerable wave of dizziness – _DiNozzos don't pass out_ – and offered her a weak smile.

"I'm still here, Abbs. Sorry I zoned out."

"It's okay, Tony. Just don't do that to Ziva tonight! Aright, you gotta get going or she might leave without you. Hey – wait, hold still!" Abby grabbed his uninjured arm before he could leave and started fussing at him. She straightened his tie, smoothed his hair a bit, and tugged at his collar. Normally, he would have bombarded her with jokes and complaints. Tonight, he just didn't have the energy. He was tired, sore, and bummed. And he still had to get through Ziva's impromptu dinner party.

"Shoo!" Apparently Abby was done with him. She shoved him lightly toward the door.

Tony sighed inwardly and shuffled towards the elevator.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva sat at her desk, industriously typing away on her computer. She was nearly finished with her report. McGee had finished his a few minutes before, but that was not unusual. What was unusual was that Tony had finished his twenty minutes earlier and then headed down to Abby's lab.

Tony _never_ finished a report before either Ziva or McGee – barring special circumstances, of course. However, he had finished early tonight, even typing with just one hand, and Gibbs had accepted his report without comment.

Well, he _had_ been rather quiet. Usually he was noisy and distracted. That could explain how he finished early, but that created a new question. What had caused to act so un-Tony-ish?

Un-Tony-ish. That's how McGee claimed Tony had been acting since their last case. Before, she had thought McGee was imagining things – Tony seemed fine to her. But tonight she could agree with McGee. Tony was definitely un-Tony-ish.

Of course, he'd been normal –well as normal as Tony ever was – that afternoon when they had been screwed, er, _bolted_ in the shipping container. Well, she would ask him tonight. She could not believe that she had invited him over to dinner after spending _all day_ trapped with just him. More Tony. More stupid jokes and movie references. Super.

_Wait, sarcasm?_ Being around Americans all the time was changing her. She wasn't really a sarcastic person. Tony was. No, wait, there was absolutely no connection there. Tony was not running –no, it was rubbing – Tony was not rubbing off on her.

She finished typing her report and hit print. She e-mailed a copy to Gibbs while she waited for the printer to finish. After collecting her things and donning the light jacket she had brought that day, she stapled the pages of her report together and handed it to Gibbs.

He looked up from his computer, but didn't take her report. She laid it on his desk.

"What?", she asked, as he continued to assess her with his stern gaze.

"You listen to Tony tonight."

"_What?"_ That had made no sense. Listen to Tony? "Why? I do not understand, Gibbs."

"Just listen to him, Ziva. And don't let him drive." With that, he turned back to his computer, effectively dismissing her.

That was odd. Well, the sooner she _listened_ to Tony, the sooner she could get rid of him. Frowning slightly, she went to pick up Tony.

It was going to be a long night.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N**: Okay, there you go, first chapter. Right, as always, thanks for reading and please, please review.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony blinked. The elevator doors swished open and, ta-da, there was Ziva. A distinctly unhappy looking Ziva. Tony blinked again.

Nope, still there and still unhappy. Well, time for some DiNozzo charm. Maybe he could manage tonight smoothly. He was hoping, anyway. He was still missing a game plan. _But, hey, that's why they teach you improv. _ _I'll just wing this,_ he thought, with more confidence than he really felt.

Mindful of Ziva's scrutiny, Tony moved carefully into the elevator. The ground was tilting and slanting under his feet, just trying to send him careening into a wall. _Alright, time to act._

"So, Zee-vah, what's on the menu tonight?", he said with feigned cheerfulness.

"I don't know, Tony. What do you like?" Ziva was tired. She might think that she didn't give anything away, but Tony could tell that she was tired. Just plain tired-tired, but also tired of him.

Well, that was tough luck, for both of them. If the powers-that-be hadn't dictated that he accept her dinner offer, he'd already snoring on his couch, with at least two beers inside him to stave off the nightmares. Alcohol, combined with the pain meds he was on and his current level of exhaustion, had a tendency to knock him out cold. Actually, that was probably the only way he'd let himself _go_ to sleep, after the day he had. Being stuck in a dark shipping container that was oh-so-much like the dark smelly closets of his childhood made for a very bad day.

He'd stopped smiling. _Damn_. He really didn't want Ziva to figure out how tough this was for him. She may not like him, but she was a good teammate. If she noticed anything, and she was very, very good at noticing things, she would most likely try to 'fix' him. And probably only end up making things worse. Not to mention making Abby and Gibbs mad at him.

Well, luckily he was pretty good at pretending – pretending to be okay when he wasn't. Because Ziva didn't know yet that he was a pretender, Tony was fairly confident that he could pull this off. He just had to remember to keep smiling.

One way he'd learned was to talk. As long as he kept talking about everything and nothing, he could remember to smile.

Taking a deep breath, and ignoring how his strangely fuzzy world slid a little to one side, Tony opened his mouth and began talking.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva was ready to kill somebody. She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel; they were going numb she was gripping it so tightly. Tony complained loudly as she swerved out of the path of an on-coming vehicle. Reluctantly, she would admit that he had cause to complain tonight – she was being a tid reckless. It _was_ his own fault, though. If he weren't so annoying, she would be in such a rush to get out of the car and _away_ from him.

She couldn't get away, though. Well, not soon enough. And that, she supposed was her fault, at least in part. No-one had told her to invite Tony to dinner. Perhaps if she had not neglected to invite him along with everybody else, she would not have had to now. At least then Gibbs would have been there to keep him under control. She had no idea Tony would act so hurt by being left out. In the end, he had made such a pathetic case that she felt sorry for him, and a little guilty too.

However, she only took _part_ of the blame for her current situation. The rest she laid firmly at someone else's feet. Oh, not Tony – Ziva was convinced that he couldn't help it. No amount of threats or pleading could get him to stop. Not that she had ever pleaded, but she had seen McGee do it many times. No, not Tony. Gibbs.

"_Listen to Tony tonight", _Gibbs had said. Oh, yes, listen to Tony indeed. The man had not stopped talking since she had met him in the elevator. She had long since stopped listening to him, though, Gibbs' orders be damned. Gibbs had to have known what Tony would be like. Ziva convinced that he had something to do with this. After all, he just had to order Tony to talk and voila – _this_ would happen.

Grimacing, she glanced over at Tony. Predictably, he was still talking, but he was also fiddling with her air vents. She thought about yelling at him to cut it out, but it would have been pointless. He was probably just doing it to pull her back into his one-sided conversation, anyway. Breathing deeply, she recited 'I will not lose control, I will NOT lose control' in her head like a mantra. After all, she was a Mossad agent and Mossad agents _never _lost control.

She jerked the car out of danger, again eliciting a very unpleasant squawk from her passenger. The loudness of it grated on her newly formed headache. Normally, she would be dreading letting DiNozzo into her house, but right now, she could not seem to get there fast enough.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony felt like sighing – actually, he felt like wetting his pants. Ziva was cranky. Not only was she cranky, but she was driving horrifically, even against her normal standard. He hadn't been looking forward to getting to Ziva's house when he got into the car, but right now he couldn't think of anything he wanted more.

Tony knew that Ziva was annoyed with him, but he didn't really think he could do anything about it. Well, he could, but the alternative was still worse. He really wanted not to do this tonight. _Hey_ he thought _maybe there's a chance I can get Abby to let me off the hook. _Well, he was certainly desperate enough to try.

Carefully, when he was sure that Ziva was 'distracted', he pulled out his phone and texted Abby.

'Ziva cranky, i go home, pls?' The response was almost immediate. She had been waiting for him.

'No way Mr. u talk 2 Ziva, or else'

Tony felt like groaning, but was careful to keep talking and smiling for Ziva. Maybe McGee…

The results were similar. He had a hunch that Abby had anticipated that, too, and intercepted his text to McGee. Tony knew better than to text Gibbs.

Oh well. _I guess it's time to work out that game plan_. Another death defying swerve by the cranky crazy ninja chick jolted his attention back to the road. Ziva's face was impassive when he glanced at her.

He was so screwed.

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**A/N: **So, here's the next chapter. It's early because of the great reviews! Thanks for reading, and please review.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Okay, guys. Here's another chapter. This one was kind of hard to write – I would welcome feedback of any kind.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva sighed with pure, unalloyed relief. Relief that was so intense and wonderful – and that lasted for about two seconds.

"Hey, wow, Ziva. This really your place? It's nice. Although – it would look more welcoming if you added flowers. You know, some of those bushes that flower every year and all you have to do is water and trim them? Yeah, and they should be yellow. Yellow flowers. What'd'ya think?"

Tony's voice shattered her relief. Instead of getting angry – she did not have enough energy for anger – she sighed despondently.

Tony grinned, waiting for some kind of response.

Ziva chose to ignore him. She climbed out of the car and strode towards her home – her sanctuary. Briefly she considered locking him out. Tony did not belong in her sanctuary. But it was no good – Tony would just bang on her door until she let him in. Banging would upset her headache more than Tony's talking.

Besides, she always regretted (afterwards, of course) any whimsical decision-making when she felt this crappy. So she left the front door open behind her. She was vaguely aware of him following her, vaguely aware that he was still talking. She did not care.

Her head throbbed and her muscles ached. She was exhausted and hungry. Shutting out Tony's endless monologue, Ziva hung up her jacket in the coat closet and set her purse on the baker's rack. As if on auto-pilot she walked past the familiar entranceway and into her living room . Immediately, she collapsed into her favorite arm chair.

Ziva closed her eyes and tilted her head back into the soft cushion, still ignoring Tony to the best of her ability. _Just a few moments, and then I will apologize and make him dinner, _she told herself.

She concentrated on her breathing and slowly, everything else faded away.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony stared at Ziva, dumbfounded. She was asleep! She had marched up the driveway, straight into her house, stopping only to put her coat and purse away. Blatantly ignoring him, she relaxed into a plush brown armchair and – and promptly fell asleep.

Okay, so he knew she was tired and cranky, but this – this surprised him. He looked longingly at her couch. It matched the chair Ziva was currently snoring away in and looked every bit as comfortable. But he couldn't risk it.

He hated making 'logical' decisions, but right now it was hard not to. If he curled up on Ziva's couch, fell asleep, and then woke her with one of his nightmares, she would not only be pissed (and probably just barely restrain her killer instincts) but she'd want to know why he screamed in his sleep. And Tony _knew_ he would, tonight.

Usually, when he felt this way, he'd go sit in Gibbs' basement and drink bourbon until he knew he'd sleep soundly, or until Gibbs ordered him to sleep regardless. Sometimes he'd talk and sometimes he wouldn't. Gibbs never told him to leave, nor did he comment about it the next day.

He sighed, _okay, sleep is out. What now? _His stomach rumbled loudly. Dinner it was.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva's kitchen was very nice. It had plenty of cabinet space, and decent sized pantry, and accessible appliances. The counter tops were uncluttered, with only a toaster and blender tucked away in one corner. All in all, it was very much like her desk – orderly and efficient.

Scrounging about, Tony had been able to find a pot, a pan, some noodles, and all the ingredients for Chef Marco's famous alfredo sauce. There was even chicken in the freezer. Tony quickly set about preparing the meal as he'd been taught. Marco had been his father's chef for almost four years, and, as a child, Tony had spent a lot of time in the kitchen with him.

Both his parents preferred French cuisine, which Marco cooked with great finesse, but he'd taught Tony a few Italian classics. _Which is a really good thing, actually, _Tony reflected, _because I'm cooking for Ziva here. I've got to keep up my reputation._

Tony bustled about the kitchen as quietly as he was able, not wanting to wake Ziva until the food was done. Hopefully, waking to the wonderful smell of his Chicken Alfredo would put her in a better mood.

Still, she might kill him for going through virtually all the drawers and cabinets in her kitchen. Tony froze when this thought occurred to him. Well, it was too late to turn back now. Maybe if he added desert, she'd be more willing to overlook his invasion of her privacy? He began wracking his memory for an easy cake recipe.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva woke slowly. That, in itself, was unusual. Normally, she came awake all at once, knowing exactly what had awakened her. Gradually she became aware that she was sitting up. Looking around she determined she _was _in her home – her living room, actually, and in her favorite chair.

A soft clang and a startled curse jerked her attention to the kitchen. _Someone was in her house!_

Now fully alert, she stalked carefully towards the kitchen, the knife she always kept strapped to her ankle held out before her. Cautiously, she peered around the door frame until she was able to see the sole occupant of the room. A man was hunched over the sink, his back to her.

That back – something was familiar about this man, even from the back. She strained her slightly sleep-addled memory before she came up with a name.

"Tony"

She had expected him to be startled – there was no way he could have heard her approach over the sound of running water. If he was surprised, however, she could not detect it.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty!", he said cheerfully, half turning to face her. He kept his hand under the water. "You hungry?"

Something was different, something felt different to Ziva. Somehow Tony seemed slightly… subdued?

Subdued was a word Ziva had _never_ previously connected with Tony, nor had she ever expected too. It was like the man had only two switches: hyper and off. And she had never seen Tony in "off" mode.

"Ziva, are you okay?" He seemed concerned. Puzzled, she realized that she hadn't answered his question.

"Yes, I am fine. And I am hungry. What have you cooked?' Ziva responded carefully.

Tony grinned again and turned off the water. The Mossad agent in her noticed how careful he was being with his right hand. _He must have burned it, _she surmised.

"Ah, glad you asked. We've got a DiNozzo Italian specialty! Chicken Alfredo Fettuccini, sautéed spinach with diced tomatoes, garlic toast, and desert in the oven."

Even the words were wrong. There were no jokes and no movie references. There were no annoying repetitive motions and absolutely no mess in her kitchen. Tony was studiously cheerful, and Ziva had no idea what that meant.

"I did not know you cooked, Tony" She expected – well, she _hoped_ – that he would respond with some kind of crack about how his cooking was very favorably regarded by a great many 'hot chicks'. Classic DiNozzo.

"Not often. Don't really have the time, you know? Besides, it's not really a hobby for me. I like to cook sometimes, though. Hey, could you hand me that potholder?"

This was not the Tony she knew. Something was wrong. A cold knot formed in her stomach, whether at the thought of something being wrong, or something being wrong _with Tony_, she was not sure. He may be annoying, but he was also a competent field agent, and she trusted him with her life. She would not wish anything bad to happen to him.

She handed him the potholder.

"Thanks!"

The feeling in the pit of her stomach grew. Tony was being polite for no apparent reason. Something was very, very wrong. She thought quickly - should she call Abby, or Gibbs? Maybe Ducky? If Tony had gone crazy, Ducky would be the most able to recognize it. He would not, however, be the best person to _handle_ a crazy-Tony. McGee wouldn't know what to do at all. That left Abby or Gibbs.

Making her decision, Ziva politely excused herself and went back into the living room to place her call.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N:** What do you guys think? Who does she call? Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony watched as Ziva slunk off into the living room. She'd been giving him odd looks since she woke up. He tiptoed towards the kitchen doorway, listening just long enough to hear the tell-tale beeping of a telephone being dialed. Tony let out a frustrated sigh. He thought he'd been doing well. He had been trying all night (even though Ziva slept through part of it) to maintain an even balance to the annoying-normal-work-Tony and the serious-grownup-Tony.

He'd tried to learn from the McGeek Fiasco (as he called it) and eased up on the serious mode. He was sure Ziva was ready to kill him in the car, he'd been so annoying. Oh well. It didn't matter anymore. Ziva was calling for reinforcements. At least she hadn't asked Ducky about various mental conditions that his high stress work environment might have caused. _Yet, _he thought. After all, it had taken two 'discussions' for McGee to become brave enough or concerned enough to start approaching his colleagues about Tony's 'strange behavior'.

Tony didn't linger by the doorway. He'd heard all he needed to. It really didn't matter who Ziva decided to call, he knew who would show up. Sighing again, he pulled out two more plates. Even though he hadn't really anticipated the extra mouths, he was sure there would be enough to go around – he tended to cook too much food. He always figured that was better than too little and, after all, leftovers weren't _that_ bad.

He snorted to himself when Ziva glided back into the kitchen. She was quiet, nearly silent, but Tony was more observant than most people gave him credit for. Besides, Ziva may not wear perfume, but honey-suckle hand lotion was just as odorous. He decided to let her startle him – maybe that would put her a little more at ease.

"Tony". He jumped, just a little.

"Yeah, Ziva?" Tony could make things easier on her, but he wasn't in a particularly 'giving' mood. She gave him another one of the 'odd looks' she'd been so generous with earlier.

"Why are there four plates out? I thought it was just going to be us?" Was she honestly being _suspicious_ of him? What, did she think he'd decided to hold an impromptu dinner party at her place? Geez, this was unbelievable. Tony was getting fed up with this.

After all, Ziva wasn't _just_ a trained investigator; she was a former spy and assassin. Tony knew he acted immature at work – hell, it wasn't even all an act. Sure, he played it up a bit, but he really was an easy-going, fun loving guy at heart. He just was more closed off and private than he portrayed. That was the key to avoiding penetrating questions. He'd learned long ago that if people thought they were getting _too much_ information rather than too little, or even just enough, they would be very wary about asking personal questions.

But his 'acting' aside, surely that wasn't all Ziva saw of him? Surely, surely, she realized that while he could be immature at times, he really was 'all growed up' and able to tie his own shoe laces and capable of forming (and maintaining) a relationship that wasn't built on sex.

Tony quickly bit down on his negative response to her questions. Getting angry wasn't going to solve anything. _I'm just tired, is all. That's the only reason she's getting to me tonight, _he told himself. All he had to do was remain civil until Abby and Gibbs got there.

** * ** * ** * **

Ziva eyed Tony suspiciously. He was standing by the sink when she came back into the kitchen, but she could not tell if he had been there the entire time.

"Tony". Ziva smirked when he jumped – at least there were some things that never changed.

"Yeah, Ziva?" He sounded cranky. She frowned a little. Even though she hadn't been with NCIS for very long, she never expected the normally cheerful agent to display a temper. She frowned when she noticed that he had two place settings on the table and two more ready on the counter. Could he have overheard…?

"Why are there four plates out? I thought it was just going to be us?"

"Oh, oops, forgot I already set the table." Tony's goofy grin didn't seem faked. Nor did the way checked the table before he answered seem unauthentic. It was just an honest mistake then. Somehow Ziva was not so sure.

"The food smells good, Tony. It is almost done, yes?"

"Yeah, just about. I still need to make the toast. Maybe you could get drinks?" Ziva noticed that Tony had made no move put the extra plates and silverware away. Nonetheless, she made no comment.

Wine or fruit juice? She glanced at Tony, for the first time taking in how tired he looked. And he was being rather more careful with his right arm than his burn would warrant…

Ziva cursed to herself in Hebrew. How could she have possibly forgotten that Tony had been injured? Now that she thought about it, Tony hadn't said a word about his arm hurting since they left NCIS. Since when did Tony _not_ complain about an injury? She remembered the fuss he made about his last paper cut – Gibbs had threatened to drive him to the emergency room if he would not stop complaining. Suddenly, Ziva was very glad that she had called Abby. Something was wrong with Tony, she was sure of it.

And Ziva had absolutely no idea what to do for (or to) Tony to make him better again. Fingering her Star of David, Ziva just prayed that Abby would get there soon.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony had just pulled the toast out of the oven when Ziva's doorbell rang. Only thirteen minutes – that was faster than even he had expected. Abby must have been at Gibbs' house – and, of course, Gibbs drove. Well, good, they could eat now. Tony had almost decided to stop stalling and just start dinner without the late arrivals.

As soon as Ziva went to answer the door, Tony grabbed the two 'extra' plates he hadn't put away earlier and set them on the table, then reached for two more glasses. Ziva had poured grape juice for her and Tony, but there was just enough for two more glasses.

Gibbs marched into the kitchen with Abby and Ziva trailing behind him.

"DiNozzo- " Gibbs paused, interrupting himself. He sniffed. "Chicken Alfredo?"

Tony grinned. Had it been any other night, he would probably have laughed his head off. Chicken Alfredo was the only thing that would do that to his boss, besides coffee, of course.

"Yeah, Boss, and plenty to go around. C'mon, it's time to eat, and I know I'm starving", Tony said, with false exuberance. He watched Abby glare at him from the corner of his eye.

"Tony, where is your sling?" Yup, he knew Abby would have something to say about that.

"We-ell", he started sheepishly.

"Ah, cut him some slack, Abby. He couldn't have made dinner with it on. Sit. Eat." Tony shot his Boss a grateful look as he and Abby joined him at the table.

"Gonna join us, David?"

"Right, yes". Ziva had been staring at them, as if transfixed, but snapped out of it at Gibbs' brusque tone. She seemed very off put by their unusual (to her) interaction.

For his part, Tony tried to behave as if this were just a normal dinner with Gibbs and Abby. They usually ate at Gibbs' at least once or twice a month. Tony had cooked a couple of times and, once, the Boss himself had contributed meatloaf. After that, Tony and Abby had made sure that at least one of them was there early to help prepare the meal – or they had take-out delivered before the Boss had a chance to really get a meal started.

They were halfway through the meal when Tony realized that Ziva had been unusually quiet. He and Gibbs and Abby were talking and laughing, but Ziva did not join in. A glance at his 'partners' assured him that they had noticed this as well.

A wink from Abby almost made him lose his appetite. He knew that look. It meant that Abby had a plan.

Tony looked to Gibbs. The Boss wouldn't allow a repeat of the McGee fiasco. Tony sighed, relieved. The Boss was here – he'd handle it.

** * ** * ** * **

Gibbs was halfway through his pasta when he saw it. Abby winked at Tony. Gibbs suppressed a groan.

As soon as she had gotten Ziva's distress call, Abby had began hatching a plan. Right now, Gibbs wished he was as ignorant as Tony was. If he'd thought the McGee Fiasco (although, he mused, it really shouldn't be called that – after all, it had worked) was bad, this one had him truly terrified.

But – here he stifled a sigh – he had never been able to tell Abby no. He looked down at his plate. He'd really hoped he would have been able to at least finish his pasta before _it_ happened. But, apparently, he had no such luck. He glanced up just in time to catch DiNozzo's _look_.

It was _that_ look – the one DiNozzo got whenever he expected his Boss to 'save' him. Gibbs shook his head – there was nothing he could do this time.

"Aw, hell, DiNozzo." Gibbs ignored Ziva's confused expression. "You're on your own here."

Gibbs tried to ignore DiNozzo's desperate one. He met with marginal success. Abby's megawatt smile, however, was impossible to ignore.

This was going to be one hell of a night.

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: ** Okay, please let me know what you thought on this one – I found it was a very difficult chapter to write. I have one more chapter, possibly two, to finish the story (hopefully to be up by the weekend, but absolutely no promises). As always, thanks for reading and please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Ziva was utterly confused. She was eating dinner – a very, very _good_ dinner – with her Boss, her partner, and her Boss's forensic scientist. She worked with these people every day. She had already been through several traumatic experiences with them. Suffice it to say, she thought she knew them very well.

She could predict Gibbs' moods, reactions, and coffee breaks. She knew when Tony was about to say something extremely stupid, do something extremely stupid, or ask something extremely stupid. And she was familiar with Abby's taste in music, her tendency to name and converse with her lab equipment, and her unhealthy caffeine consumption.

Therefore, these three people should not be able to so completely throw her for a hoop. Er, loop, throw her for a loop.

But they were.

For the past ten minutes Ziva has been observing them interact. They were talking and laughing in a way that she had never seen at work. Even Gibbs. It was like they enjoyed each other's company, and were very comfortable in it. Ziva has seen this type of relationship before – in long time friendships, marriages, and close sibling bonds. But these three people were just co-workers.

_It does not make sense_, she thought, taking another bit of her pasta. _Which Tony cooked._

That was another thing that did not make sense, Tony's behavior. He was being serious – well, more than usual. He had stopped behaving so strangely as soon as Abby and – yet another surprise – Gibbs showed up. Almost like he was hiding something. Ah! That was it. Tony _was_ hiding something – his obvious exhaustion and discomfort. He was doing a good job, too.

Abby and Gibbs did not seem to notice, but somehow she doubted that Tony's feigned cheerful energy fooled them.

"Hey, Ziva!". Abby demanded Ziva's attention.

"Yes, Abby?"

"We're gonna play Truth or Dare!" She exclaimed excitedly. The two men groaned in unison, but Tony was the only one brave enough (or stupid enough) to protest.

"But Abbs! That's a kids' game! There's no way I'm playing!"

"Ha, Tony! You are a kid!" Ziva exclaimed. She did not recognize the game, but she jumped at the chance to tease Tony.

Tony made a face.

"I know you are, but what am I?", he taunted. "Huh, huh?"

Ziva smirked at the juvenile response and opened her mouth to claim he had just proved her point, but Abby was quicker.

"Ew, Tony, I haven't heard anyone say that since fourth grade! And yes, mister, you _are_ so playing. Everyone is, even Gibbs." She stared at Gibbs through narrowed eyes. Her boss sighed, clearly unhappy, before nodding reluctantly.

"But Boss-"

"Shut up, DiNozzo" There was no headslap – Tony was out of range. Ziva suspected he had chosen the seat directly opposite his boss for that very reason.

"Yay! Okay, Tony's first! Ziva, do you know how to play?" Abby squealed excitedly.

Ziva shook her head in the negative. She was starting to feel nervous. Tony and Gibbs' obvious dislike of the game made her wary.

"Okay – well we kinda have special rules. Not the normal ones. Not that the normal ones are good, it's just that we like our rules better, because they work better and if we didn't change some rules –"

"Abby! Just tell her the rules." That came from Tony, who, strangely enough, seemed to have less patience for the game than Gibbs.

"Right." Abby said, sheepishly. "Anyway, each person has a turn, and they can choose either truth or dare. If you pick truth you have to answer a question from one of the other players. Here's where we changed the rules a little bit – you can lie just as long as no one catches you. If they know you're lying you have to tell the truth. And if they catch you lying you also lose the game."

"What if you lie about lying?" Ziva asked. Abby shook her head.

"That's against the rules. You can't lie about lying. If you lied and somebody asks you if you lied then you have to tell the truth." Ziva nodded slowly, obviously not completely sure of the concept.

"Then there is nothing to keep anyone –" she glanced specifically at Tony " – from cheating?"

"Cheating is Bad! Tony would never cheat and neither would Boss-man! And I don't cheat, either! Why would you think that we would cheat?" The Goth sounded hurt that Ziva would even think such a thing. Hastily, Ziva reassured her that she did not think anyone would cheat.

"I was just curious. What happens if you pick dare?"

"Well Zee-vah, if you pick dare you have to do _whatever_ someone dares you to do." Tony leered at her, seeming to perk up slightly. _That_, she thought dryly, _is very Tony-ish behavior._

Still, she was glad to see him act 'normally'. Even if she was not looking forward to the game, she would willingly play if it made Tony feel better.

"Well, not _anything, _Tony. Nothing that'll get anyone hurt. And, Gibbs, you can't make bring you coffee every two hours for a week again." She glared at him. "Only stuff that they can do here tonight. Okay, everybody understand the rules?" Abby asked. Tony and Ziva answered in the affirmative. Gibbs was preoccupied with finishing his food. He nodded after Abby kicked him. "Let's start then! Tony's first!"

The senior field agent groaned good naturedly. Ziva smirked when she realized that she had the chance to ask Tony _anything_ she wanted to, and get a truthful answer. Either that, or she could dare him to clean her house. This might actually be fun.

** * ** * ** * **

Tony groaned when Abby announced that he'd be going first. He tried to put on a good front for Abby, but he knew she probably saw right through it. He sent Gibbs a glare for not ending this before it started, but the man was too busy shoveling in the last of his pasta to notice. Apparently Gibbs was dreading this just as much as he was. Tony still blamed him though, just because it made him feel better to have someone to blame.

Abby was excited – Truth or Dare was her favorite non-board-game game. Normally Tony only played it with her when he was very drunk or if she was sick. Gibbs only played when she was sick. McGeek had not yet been included in the joys of Truth or Dare with Abby. Lucky Tim.

Ziva looked…smug? _Oh, crap_, Tony thought. Things were going to go very badly for him tonight – he could tell already.

So he was resigned to his fate when Abby announced for the second time, that Tony would be going first.

Hmm, Truth or Dare? Truths were dangerous for Tony. Abby usually asked harmless questions about first times, worst dates, favorites things, or embarrassing moments. Gibbs, however, liked to ask about his past. Christmases, worst days, best days, his football/basketball era – things that he'd rather keep to himself. He knew Gibbs only asked because there really wasn't any other way to get Tony to talk about those things – unless he was drunk.

And, then, they usually only played this with Abby – and only when she insisted. He wasn't sure what to expect from Gibbs with Ziva here.

Still, that smug look on Ziva's face worried him. He was very afraid of what she would dare him to do.

So, again, Truth or Dare?

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: **Sorry if this chapter seems a bit cheesy. It would be longer, but I'd like some feedback before I write more. If you guys think this is too corny, I'll change it. Let me know what you guys think. Truth, or Dare?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Here you go, two chapters in one day! (No idea I had it in me ;p) Enjoy.

** * ** * ** * **

"Dare"

"Tony, I dare you…" Three voices came. Abby was the quickest though.

"Tony, I dare you to wear your sling for the rest of the night!"

Tony groaned, glaring at Gibbs who leaned back in his chair and smirked.

"Abby, that isn't a real dare!", he complained.

"Does that mean you will not do it?" challenged Ziva.

Tony eyed his opponents. Gibbs found this incredibly amusing, judging by his uncharacteristic snigger. Ziva was openly mocking. Abby, well, Abby was looked inordinately pleased with herself. Tony sighed, defeated. He briefly considered if quitting now by refusing the dare was worth facing Abby's wrath. He decided not.

"Alright, I left it in the car. Lemme go get it." Before Tony could pull himself upright, Gibbs stood and demanded Ziva give him her keys.

"I'll get the sling, DiNozzo. I smell desert."

Tony grinned. Gibbs wasn't a big fan of cake, but he knew Tony was. It was a nice gesture, and DiNozzo sent him a grateful look.

Ten minutes later Tony was re-settled in his sling and everyone had been served a slice of cake.

"My turn!", Abby shouted. She paused, thinking. "Dare!"

"Abby-I-dare-you-to-poke-Ziva-with-your-fork-three-times" Gushed Tony with his most immature smile.

Even Gibbs couldn't hold back an entertained snort when Ziva glared at Abby, silently challenging her to go through with it.

Slowly, Abby reached for her fork. Poised to strike, she froze. Tony would have sworn he saw a light bulb go off over her head.

"Tony! That's against the rules! Nobody gets hurt, remember?" Tony just grinned slyly and shook his head.

"Now, Abbs, no one has ever seriously been hurt with desert fork. Besides, I doubt you could hurt Ziva if you wanted to."

The Goth glared.

"Maybe not hurt, but I can still make her mad" she mumbled, stabbing rapidly.

"Ouch! Enough, Abby that was like five times!" Ziva cried, looking just as mad as Abby had thought she would. "I blame you, Tony" she continued, rubbing her sore arm. Tony paled.

"Gibbs!" Abby chirped.

"Pass."

"Gibbs, you can't pass."

"…skip-bo"

"Um, Boss, that's a card game… and that doesn't mean what you think it does."

Gibbs sighed gustily.

"Truth." He glared at Abby and Tony as he said this, effectively stopping them from blurting out whatever was on their minds.

"Gibbs, why did you hire Tony?" Ziva inquired sweetly, gloating because _she_ hadn't gotten 'the Gibbs glare of doom'.

"He smiled" came the deadpan response. Her smile faltered and it was the other two's turn to look smug.

"That would be true, Zee-vah" Tony sing-songed. Abby nodded emphatically in support.

"My turn then" she sighed. Truth or dare? Tony was leering at her again. He wouldn't make her do a lap dance or anything equally embarrassing in front of his boss, would he? "Truth"

"Ziva, how'd you get those friction burns?" Tony smiled.

Crap, he tricked her. Oh well, it could have been worse. She thought about lying, but she was afraid Gibbs would catch her. She was not going to be the first one out.

"I was thrown across the mat this morning by my sparring partner."

Tony's eyebrows rose suggestively.

"Not like that, Tony!" Ziva corrected exasperatedly. "We were actually sparring."

"Did he win?" Ziva glowered. "Ha! He did! You got beat!"

"Whatever. I can still swipe the floor with you, Tony"

"It's wipe the floor, Ziva"

"Whatever!"

"Tony!" Abby intervened. "It's your turn"

Tony surveyed the other occupants of Ziva's small kitchen table warily. He still wasn't ready to risk truth.

"Dare" This time Ziva was ready.

"Tony, I dare you to headslap Gibbs." That got her some looks. Obviously, Ziva was trying to get back at Tony for loosing Abby and the Desert Fork on her earlier.

All three reactions surprised her, though. Ziva had expected a pale, trembling Tony, a fuming, growling Gibbs, and a mortified, somewhat sympathetic Abby. To her great astonishment, Tony merely shrugged, stood up, and walked around to Gibbs. For his part, Gibbs wore an unreadable expression as he tipped his head deferentially. Abby seemed bored.

Rather unceremoniously, Tony delivered a loud smack and then calmly reseated himself.

"What – " Ziva was speechless.

"Rule #47: Don't screw with family", Gibbs stated. Abby and DiNozzo nodded solemnly.

"But – you are not family!"

The three shared a look. Or, rather, Gibbs and Abby looked at Tony, who groaned and covered his face with his free hand.

"Abs, your turn" Gibbs' barked order startled both Americans.

"Um….right….Druth"

The strange word confused Ziva, but the two men just rolled their eyes.

"Abs, I dare you to tell Ziva the truth about why Tony came tonight."

Tony glared at his boss, mumbling something vaguely unflattering under his breath.

"He was _supposed_ to have The Talk with you" she said cheerfully.

"'The Talk'?" Ziva rubbed her temples. Things were getting strange again. She wondered if her partner slipped an 'extra ingredient' into the cake.

"Gibbs" Tony growled.

"Dare."

"I dare _you_ to have The Talk with Ziva"

"Pass."

"Boss, Abby says you can't pass."

"Forfeit"

"You can't do that either"

"Um, actually, Tony, yes he can." Tony narrowed his eyes at Abby. She was…bubbly. Tony was not in the mood for bubbly.

"Fine. He loses. Ziva."

"Truth" Gibbs was out of the game, and Abby was making faces at Tony – trying, in her own way, to 'hint' that he should do something. The 'faces' might have meant something to Tony, but Ziva was once again lost. Yes, Tony was making faces back. After witnessing their strange brand of wordless communication all night, she could almost believe that they really _were_ family.

After all, Gibbs would not have said it if it was not true, would he?

Thinking about it, Ziva realized that Tony was not the only one that had been acting out of character that evening. All three of them had been… free-er? Not 'out of character' like something was wrong (except for maybe Tony) but like they were with people they trusted implicitly. Like she had thought earlier, Ziva only knew of three relationships that _trusted_ like that – long standing friendships, soul-matches (um, soul mates), and siblings – family.

Ziva had never been that close to her own family; she had been trained from a young age to be suspicious of anyone and everyone. Her own father had taught her that lesson personally more than once. She doubted that she could ever trust him like her co-workers were trusting each other.

Tony's sigh interrupted her thoughts.

"Ziva, why'd you ask Gibbs why he hired me?"

Gibbs' face clouded. Ziva knew that meant she needed to respond carefully. Honestly, she had only asked because she was curious.

The ex-Mossad agent knew that Tony was a very capable investigator, but she could not see Gibbs hiring someone like Tony because he exhibited potential. There was more to the story – maybe more to Tony – than she knew. Ziva did not like that they were keeping this a secret.

"Because I know there is more that you and Gibbs will not say." Well, that was close to the truth anyway.

Gibbs snorted.

"Ziva, he was a homicide detective with a record for insubordination. Joint case, NCIS lead. I told him not to get shot." He glared at his Senior Field Agent who smiled weakly.

"Tony doesn't really like being told what to do" Abby chimed in "So of course he got shot."

"Hey! I didn't do it on purpose! You make it sound like I got shot on purpose." Tony protested, but was quickly shushed by Abby. Ziva waited for someone to continue. This felt important somehow – even if she did not understand why.

"Right, DiNozzo" Gibbs drawled. "You got shot and I had to visit you in the hospital."

"Soon as the doctor told you I'd live you started yelling, threatening to chain me to my desk for the next month with cold cases. You were _pissed._"

"And, damn it, DiNozzo, you just smiled and asked if that was a job offer, because your last boss just fired your ass for getting shot – again." Gibbs was griping, but his eyes were proud.

Ziva watched as Tony gave his boss a single nod. _They're communicating, _she thought. She had never noticed that before tonight, but she knew in her gut that she had seen them to it before.

And that is when it hit her. They were _letting_ her see this. They were relaxed and enjoying each others' company – and that included her, Ziva, ex-Mossad spy and assassin. They were _trusting _her.

If they were family…

"Tony, it is your turn" Ziva said. He smiled tiredly, stifling a yawn.

"Truth"

"You were supposed to tell me I am family, yes?"

"Yeah, Ziva, you're family."

Abby clapped excitedly. Ziva would swear she heard Gibbs heave a relieved sigh. And Tony – well, this time he was unable to smother his yawn.

Ziva grinned and offered to let him sleep on the couch – after all, that is what family is for, yes?

** * ** * ** * **

**A/N: ** Alrighty – there you go. It's finished HURRAY! (although I'm toying with adding a TIVA alternate ending, but I'm not sure I want to start this ball rolling again – maybe in a few weeks) Thanks for reading, and, as always, please let me know what you thought!


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